


I'll Never Love Again

by Picajc



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An Idea I couldn't get out of my head, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ernesto is a good person, F/M, Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picajc/pseuds/Picajc
Summary: In a modern au, Hector is still tragically taken from his family.  While coping with her loss, Imelda is asked to do something she's not sure she can.Based around the song "I'll Never Love Again" as performed by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper in "A Star is Born."





	I'll Never Love Again

**I’ll Never Love Again**

 

_ “I’ll be home tomorrow, Imelda.  I promise.” _

 

_ “You’re sure?  You’ve been delayed twice now, Héctor , and I don’t want to have to--” _

 

_ “Tomorrow, mi amor.  If I could be there any faster, I would.  But promise- I’ll be there tomorrow.” _

 

_ She sighs.  She knows he is trying.  She knows how the producers at the studio can be.  No matter if the recording was perfect the first time, they always want to try it a hundred different ways before going back to the original.  She’d seen it herself the times she took these trips with him. _

 

_ “I believe you.  And I’m sorry. We just miss you so much, and Coco is so anxious for you to come home.”  A deep breath and a pause. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but she’s growing so much.  I swear she must be learning faster than the school can teach her.” _

 

_ “She gets that from you,” Héctor  smiles into the phone. “My beautiful, muy intelligente, esposa.” _

 

_ “Flatterer,” she chuckles back. _

 

_ “It’s all true though.”  He takes a minute, trying to gather the right words for what he wants to say next.  “I think I want this trip to be the last you know.” _

 

_ She’s shocked.  So shocked she isn’t sure she heard him correctly.  “What?” _

 

_ “I mean it, ‘melda.  I’m over this. I love writing music, I love making songs that make people happy, but this part?  No. I don’t want to be recording anymore. I don’t like being away from you and Coco. I want to be with my family.” _

 

_ There’s tears in her eyes, and in her voice when she responds.  “And we want you here too, carino. But are you sure you can give all that up? It’s been a part of your life, of our lives, for so long.  Can you really walk away from it?” _

 

_ There is no hesitation when he responds.  “Absolutely. Our family is so much more important to me.  This is fun, a part of me will miss it, yes. But unless the company is willing to build a recording studio onto our house, I’m done.  I want to be a full time husband to you, and father to Coco.” He chuckles before adding. “And any other ninos or ninas who come along.” _

 

_ “Don’t get ahead of yourself there- I already told you I’m not pregnant yet, idiota.” _

 

_ “Doesn’t mean you won’t be by this time tomorrow.”  She can’t see him, but she knows he’s wearing that stupid, toothy grin, and wiggling his eyebrows. _

 

_ “Cállate !” she can’t help but laugh into the phone.  “Go get your songs recorded- we’ll see you tomorrow.” _

 

_ “Tomorrow,” he sighed.  “And I’ll never have to leave you like this again.  I love you, Imelda. I miss you, I love you, and I can’t wait to see you and Coco.” _

 

_ “We love you too.  And we can’t wait to see you either.  Less than 24 hours.” _

 

_ “I know.  Te amo.” _

 

_ “Te amo, Héctor .”  And they ended the call, both feeling at peace, and looking forward to tomorrow. _

 

_ That version of tomorrow, never came. _

 

**2 months later**

 

“The people from the Grammy’s called again--”

 

“No.  It’s too soon.”

 

“Imelda, listen, you and I both know that--”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“What?  Of course you can!”

 

“No, I can’t do it.”

 

“Imelda, you--”

 

“I said no, Ernesto!”  she turned away from him so he couldn’t see the tears streaming down her face.  Not that he hadn’t seen her cry each and every day for the last two months, but she couldn’t look at him now.

 

Ernesto took a deep breath and stopped himself from continuing the argument.  He didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to add to the unfathomable sorrow she had felt every day since the accident.  But he also knew her, and certainly knew his best friend. He reached for her shoulder and she surprisingly turned right into his embrace, sobbing still.  They had never achieved the level of friendship he shared with Héctor , but were friendly enough. He had been best man at their wedding, and was named Coco’s godfather mere minutes after she had been born.  He was around for all holidays, birthdays and family functions since Héctor and Imelda had started dating. If anyone had any understanding of how she was feeling now, how she had felt for the last two months, it would be him.

 

“It’ll be like it’s really real,” Imelda whispered after a time.  “It’ll be too final.”

 

He held her away from him a moment and looked down on her tear stained face.  He’d never had any romantic interest in her, and never would, but even he had to admit, Imelda Rivera was beautiful even on her worst days.  Beautiful, and obviously in a great deal of emotional pain.

 

“It is real, Imelda,” he choked on the words.  “And whether or not you do this is not going to change that.  I wish it could, but we both know it can’t.”

 

A fresh wave of tears started to fall.  “I know that. And I know it sounds ridiculous.  But a part of me just can’t let go of that. Not yet.”

 

He handed her some tissues from the box on the counter and lead her to a chair at the kitchen table.  He sat her down before taking the one next to her. “I know. Believe me, I know. But they are going to do this whether you participate or not.  And they are going to pick any song they choose, and any artist they want to do it. You’ll have zero control, and I know how much you hate that.”

 

That got a small smile out of her.  She did like being in control of things, and was usually pretty good at it.  She was a master at coordinating schedules, kept Héctor in line, made sure Coco got where she needed to be at all times, and ran a successful and growing shoe company, and all before age 30.  Her ability to manage things kept the family going during the day, but it crumbled completely at night, when she felt the most alone the last two months. 

 

“How can I?” she questioned.  “How can I go out there, face all of those people, and be expected to keep it together?”

 

“I don’t think anyone expects you to keep it together, Imelda.  Least of all me, your brothers, Coco. The ones who matter most.”

 

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” she admits in a harsh whisper.  “It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever written. I can’t bare to disappoint him by being weak.”

 

“There’s nothing weak about you,” Ernesto huffs with a smile.  “Don’t think I’ll ever forget that heel to the head after his bachelor party.  Or the time you tackled me when we were kids. Or his broken fingers when you had Coco.”  He laughs as she rolls her eyes and blows her nose. “ ‘Weak’ and ‘Imelda Rivera’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”

 

She squeezes his hand and half smiles.  “What do you think he’d want me to do?”

 

I think,” he pauses as he takes both of her hands in his, “nothing on Earth would make him prouder, than for all the world to hear your voice singing his song.  Especially  _ this _ song.”

 

She nods and wipes her nose.  “Do  _ you _ think I can do it?  Honestly?”

 

“Honestly?”  He looks down at the floor before looking right back at her.  “I don’t think anyone else could. Not even me. And you  _ know _ how much it hurts me to say that.”

 

She finally laughs for real at that. “Is the great Ernesto de la Cruz admitting someone may be better at singing than he is?”

 

“No!” he shoots back quickly.  “Just this one song, in this one instance.  I will never say those words ever again.”

 

And for the first time ever, they are laughing together, without the presence of their mediator.

 

***

 

_ “Are you sure this is a good idea, Héctor ?” _

 

_ “Of course it is!  I can surprise them tonight, rather than make them wait until tomorrow afternoon!” _

 

_ “But a six hour ride on a motorcycle starting at this time of night?”  Ernesto had a point. It would be 8:00 by the time Héctor left, which would mean he wouldn’t pull into Santa Cecilia until about 2AM.  “Will a few hours really make that much of a difference?” _

 

_ “A few less hours away from Imelda and Coco makes all the difference, my friend,”  Héctor replied with a longing smile. “It’ll be fine. The roads are pretty much empty this time of night- I might even be home sooner than you think.” _

 

_ “If you insist,” Ernesto threw his hands up in defeat.  “I don’t want to hear about how Señor Alvarez shot at you for roaring into the neighborhood on that thing in the middle of the night though.” _

 

_ Héctor  laughed and clasped Ernesto on the shoulder.  “Better me than you though, right?” _

 

_ “Definitely.” _

 

_ “I’ll text you when I get home.  Again, provided I don’t catch a stray bullet to the head or something.” _

 

_ “You better not,” Ernesto grumbled.  “Especially after the president of the record company agreed to look around Santa Cecilia for possible studio space.” _

 

_ Héctor  beamed at that.  “I know! It’s crazy!  I can’t wait to tell Imelda when I get home!” _

 

He never made it home.  And he never got to tell Imelda about the studio.  A six hour ride on a motorcycle would have been difficult in broad daylight, let alone the middle of the night.  But Héctor had a reason to want to get home- two reasons actually. His girls had waited long enough for him and he just couldn’t stay away any longer.

 

He was awake and alert throughout his entire journey.  The adrenaline of finishing the recordings, finally heading home, and the possibility that he could actually work from home gave him enough energy that he would have ridden for 10 hours if he’d had to.  Everything he ever could have wanted was within his grasp. He really was going to be the man who ‘had it all.’

 

Except that he wasn’t.  He never knew what exactly had darted in front of his motorcycle an hour outside Santa Cecilia, but it didn’t matter in the end. And it didn’t matter to Imelda when the two police officers showed up at her door a few hours later, carrying what was left of the few belongings Héctor  had carried with him. 

 

His wallet.  A phone with a shattered screen.  A tattered backpack containing his red songbook and a few other necessities.  The rest Ernesto would be dropping off when he came home later that day.

 

_ “Everything indicates he lost control of the bike, Señora Rivera,” the lead detective had informed her later that morning after she had identified his bruised and scraped body.  “Probably an animal darted out in front of him and…” _

 

_ He kept on talking but she wasn’t listening.  She stared ahead at the wall of the precinct, Coco clutched tightly to her chest, unmoving, unfeeling.  She kept telling herself that this was a dream and she was going to wake up soon. She would wake up, and Héctor  would be home, safely asleep next to her after driving all night to surprise them early. If she didn’t engage, it couldn’t be real. _

 

_ She went though much of the next few days that way.  Avoiding her phone, his and her social media accounts, not daring to turn the television back on after hearing station after station talk about ‘the tragic and untimely death of songwriter Héctor  Rivera.’ Reporters had been circling since the news had broke. Between the twins, Ernesto, and some dear neighbors, none of them had managed to bother her or Coco yet. But the dam she was building was inevitably going to burst.  Thankfully, it happened in the privacy of her home, the night before the funeral. _

 

_ “Imelda, dinner is on the stove if you decide you’re hungry later,” Oscar said to her through the closed bedroom door.  _

 

_ “Ok,” was the quick and disconnected response.   _

 

_ “Felipe is putting Coco to bed, and then we have a few things to take care of before tomorrow morning.” _

 

_ “Ok.” _

 

_ Oscar sighed and ran a hand over his tired face.  “Imelda, I know you don’t want to hear this right now, and, hell, I don’t know if this is the time to say it or not, but you need to--” _

 

_ Whatever he was going to say, was cut off by her abrupt opening of her bedroom door.  She looked so broken, and tired, and murderous all at once. His only solace in the moment was that her black dress was pressed and hanging in a garment bag on the door of the closet.  So she wasn’t in complete denial after all… _

 

_ “Do not tell me what I need to be doing,” she growled at him.  Again, he was relieved to see any kind of emotion coming from her.  “You have no idea what I may or may not need right now. I’ll check on Coco in a bit.”  the door slammed back in his face as quickly as it had been opened. Oscar shook his head and turned away from the door. _

 

_ Ernesto walked into the quiet house, a bottle of tequila in his hands.  He set his keys and phone down on the table and checked both the living and family rooms for any sign that someone was around.  Upon seeing no one, he glanced down the hallway toward the bedrooms. _

 

_ “Imelda?” he called out.  A few moments later she peeked her head out and made her way out into the kitchen. _

 

_ “What are you doing here?”  her voice was rough, though her appearance was not.  Her wet hair tied up in a bun was an indication that she had showered not so long ago.  She didn’t look pleased to see him, but then again, she hadn’t looked pleased at anything in the last several days. _

 

_ He held up the bottle in answer.  “I figured we could both use something to take the edge off of tomorrow.”  She said nothing but went to a cabinet and took out two tumblers. He poured them each a generous helping while she dug around the fruit drawer for some limes.  While he and Héctor preferred their tequila straight, she preferred the lime to cut down on the bite. _

 

_ He slid one glass toward her as she sat down next to him.  “To… to Héctor ,” he struggled to say, held his glass up to her and took a swig.  She on the other hand held onto her glass and stared at it, swirling the amber liquid gently. _

 

_ “Imelda?” _

 

_ “You know the first time I ever had tequila was with him,” she said softly, her eyes not leaving the glass.  “I tried to down the shot before I could taste it and failed spectacularly. I spit it all over him and choked horribly.” _

 

_ Ernesto smiled slightly.  “He told me Said he knew you were the one after that.” _

 

_ “I couldn’t believe he still wanted anything to do with me.” _

 

_ Ernesto paused, whether mulling his words or holding back tears she didn’t know.  “He loved you.” _

 

_ She nodded.  “I know.” _

 

_ “You and Coco are his…  _ were _ his everything.”  He took a long gulp from the glass, not trusting his voice to hold steady.  He had never cried in front of anyone but Héctor . And certainly never in front of a girl, or woman, least of all Imelda.  No need to start now. _

 

_ Her eyes were filled to the brim, the slightest movement and there would be two uncontrollable rivers flowing down her cheeks.  Her efforts to prevent that were proving to be in vain. _

 

_ “Nesto?” her voice, as well as her hands shook. _

 

_ A high pitched, “yeah?” was his response. _

 

_ She looked up at him, tears clinging to her lashes in a last ditch effort to keep from falling and breaking the dam.  “He’s really gone, isn’t he?” _

 

_ And that was it.  Watching Imelda lose her battle with reality caused him to cave to the intense grief that had been building since he learned of his best friend’s death. _

 

_ “Yeah, he is,” he managed to squeak out before the painful, wracking sobs hit both of them full force.  She dropped her head into her hands as her entire body shook. Neither one cared what they looked like to the other anymore.  The love of her life, and the best friend he ever had was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.  _

 

_ “Why didn’t he just wait until morning?” she managed to choke out.  “A few more hours wouldn’t have mattered!” Ernesto couldn’t speak, but nodded in agreement.  “I wanted him home, but… not like this. If I had known that phone call would be the last conversation I’d have with him…”  but she couldn’t go on. She collapsed onto the floor with a keening wail that would have shattered even the most hardened of hearts.  In a move that surprised even him, he was down there with her in a flash and held her as they both let out their grief over their immeasurable loss.  _

 

_ When the twins came home an hour later, they found their still hysterical sister on the floor being held by a calm, but clearly distraught Ernesto.  Their questioning glances to him were met with a shake of the head and finger to his lips. While a strange scene to walk in on, they were both relieved to see their sister finally accepting what had happened.  And while Ernesto seemed like the last person to make that happen, maybe, in this instance, he was the  _ only _ one who could. _

 

**The Grammys**

 

Even though she had agreed to do this, she didn’t like it.  While the producers of the show had given into most of her requests ( _ demands _ they might argue), there were a few she had to concede on.  Things like a designer dress, jewelry that was more expensive than her house, insane amounts of makeup so she would not look ‘washed out’ on camera.  And the biggest one of all- performing live. 

 

Initially, she had thought she would just record the song in studio and that was what would play at the awards show, along with a montage of Héctor ’s life and career.  Then she and Coco would come out on stage, say a few words, and that would be it. However, the Grammy producers had very different ideas. Ernesto and the record company had fought on her behalf, but the show threatened to go with another artist willing to go live if she wouldn’t.  Imelda wasn’t about to let that happen, so she agreed, but on the condition that the song Héctor had written for her would  _ always _ belong only to her- not the record label, not the Grammys,  _ no one _ but her.  All agreed o the terms, and the deal was sealed.

 

But now nerves were settling in.  Singing at home with Héctor and Coco was fine.  Even the few times she had gone to the studio with him and recorded for fun were fine.  This… well, this was something entirely different. This was live in front of thousands of people who didn’t know her from any other songwriters wife three months ago.  This was televised, which meant millions more would be watching from home. In a word, it was all  _ terrifying _ .

 

The song wasn’t the problem.  The beautiful lyrics Héctor had written and sang for her a few weeks before he died was perfect and oh so him.  She had found the folded up piece of paper on his desk one afternoon while cleaning his constantly disheveled desk..  Intrigued, she had read it and was moved to tears. He found her that way when he returned home a short time later.

 

_ “Imelda?!  What’s wrong?” he asked in a panic.   _

 

_ She smiled and held up her find.  He blushed and ducked his head. _

 

_ “I want to know what this is,” she smiled behind her tears.  “You hiding love songs?” _

 

_ “I wouldn’t say I was  _ hiding _ it,” he replied sheepishly.  “I just started putting it down on paper and… it just sort of fell out of me I guess, and onto this page.” _

 

_ “It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she rose to walk to him. _

 

_ “It’s not done.  I’m still working on it.” _

 

_ “Still beautiful,” she replied with a soft kiss to his lips.  “Play it for me?” _

 

And he had.  It wasn’t much, but what it was had been beautiful.  She’d cherish that little half written song all the days of her life.  Over the last month, she and Ernesto had worked together (much to the shock of her brothers) to turn his words into a complete song.  She was pleased with the result, and knew in her heart Héctor would be too. If only he were here to hear it…

 

“You’re on in two minutes, Imelda,” a stagehand informed her as he whisked past.  

 

She took a deep breath and nodded in acknowledgement.  She looked down and squeezed Coco’s shoulders before giving the child a small smile.

 

“You’re going to do great,” Coco beamed up at her mother.  “Papá is going to love it.”

 

Imelda fought very hard to hold back tears in that moment.  Someone would wring her neck if she messed up her makeup now.  “Thank you, mija.”

 

“She’s right- he is going to love it,” Ernesto added next to her.  She nodded, not trusting herself to answer. “You can do this.”

 

“Thirty-seconds, Señora!” another crew member called to her.  She smoothed her hands down the one shouldered, fitted purple ombré gown she wore. She got a quick hug from Ernesto, her brothers, and a bone crushing one from her daughter, followed by a quick peck to her wedding ring as she heard the end of her introduction.

 

“Here from Santa Cecilia to help us honor her late husband, please welcome Imelda Rivera.”  The applause erupted in her ears and she made her way onto the stage. A kiss on the cheek from whoever had made her introduction and she was on her own.  The applause continued a few more moments before the prompter lit up in front of her.

 

“Thank you for being here tonight to honor my husband,” she started shakily.   _ Oh this was not easy, not at all _ .  “He wrote a song for me. I’d like to sing it for him tonight, and with your help, maybe I can.”  Her voice noticeably cracked on the last few words and she took another deep breath in the hope it would steady her.  The applause from the crowd gave her a moment's reprieve. “Thank you. Really, thank you.” Again the applause slowed and the first notes of the song came from the orchestra behind her.  Another deep breath and it was go time.

 

_ Wish I could, I could've said goodbye _

_ I would've said what I wanted to _

_ Maybe even cried for you _

_ If I knew it would be the last time _

_ I would've broke my heart in two _

_ Tryin' to save a part of you _

 

_ Don't wanna feel another touch _

_ Don't wanna start another fire _

_ Don't wanna know another kiss _

_ No other name falling off my lips _

_ Don't wanna give my heart away _

_ To another stranger _

_ Or let another day begin _

_ Won't even let the sunlight in _

_ No, I'll never love again _

_ I'll never love again _

 

This was  _ hard _ .  Harder than she ever expected it to be.  Her voice sounded strained, and she knew it, which wasn’t helping her nerves even a little bit.  But trying to sing correctly and not break down into tears on live television was easier said than done.  She glanced to her right and her tear filled eyes found Coco. Her little girl was smiling and giving her a thumbs up before blowing her a kiss.  It was something they had done countless times for Héctor when he was performing, and it was the gesture she needed to continue this. Imelda winked and smiled at her daughter (like Héctor used to do) before turning back to the full auditorium before her.  Her nerves were still there, but her voice became stronger.

 

_ When we first met _

_ I never thought that I would fall _

_ I never thought that I'd find myself _

_ Lying in your arms _

_ And I want to pretend that it's not true _

_ Oh baby, that you're gone _

_ 'Cause my world keeps turning, and turning, and turning _

_ And I'm not moving on _

 

_ Don't wanna feel another touch _

_ Don't wanna start another fire _

_ Don't wanna know another kiss _

_ No other name falling off my lips _

_ Don't wanna give my heart away _

_ To another stranger _

_ Or let another day begin _

_ Won't even let the sunlight in _

_ No, I'll never love _

 

Imelda couldn’t see too much of the audience in front of her, but that was probably for the best.  There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, between her emotional performance, and the montage of Héctor’s life playing out on the screens behind her.  Imelda couldn’t see the screen, but had she been able to, she definitely would not make it through the tribute to Héctor. 

 

The more she sang, the more she felt his presence with her.  It was like he was holding her up and supporting her, like he had in so many other instances in their life together.  She would never be able to explain it, but somehow, she knew he was proud of her.

 

_ I don't wanna know this feeling _

_ Unless it's you and me _

_ I don't wanna waste a moment, ooh _

_ And I don't wanna give somebody else the better part of me _

_ I would rather wait for you, ooh _

 

The song was nearing its end and the music slowed.  Her voice caught once again, but it didn’t bother her this time.  She was getting through this one way or another. It didn’t matter if she cried now. 

 

_ Don't wanna feel another touch _

_ Don't wanna start another fire _

_ Don't wanna know another kiss _

_ Baby, unless they are your lips _

 

_ Don’t wanna-- _

 

She stopped and turned toward the screens behind her when she heard a familiar voice join her in place of the orchestra.  On the screen behind her was Héctor , sitting at their piano at home, playing his song for her while she stood by and listened. 

 

_ Don't wanna give my heart away _

_ To another stranger _

_ Don't let another day begin _

_ Won't let the sunlight in _

_ Oh, I'll never love again _

_ Never love again _

_ Never love again _

_ Oh, I'll never love again _

 

The surprise of seeing and hearing him play as she stood by and listened, together with her already wild emotions, was too much.  She fought to stay on her feet as long as possible but lost that battle quickly. She dropped to her knees, one hand over her heart, the other pressed against her lips.  The tears fell freely as her body shook, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen. She felt two little arms wrap around her from the side and knew Coco was with her.  She wrapped an arm around her daughter and held her tight as they both watched and listened to the missing part of both their hearts.

 

Imelda had no idea this video even existed and briefly wondered where it could have come from, when logic won out and told her it was Ernesto.  She had been so focused on Héctor that day, it didn’t register until later that Ernesto had been there too. Usually his filming of the more candid moments between her and Héctor annoyed her, but not this one.  This one she would be forever grateful for, and she would tell him that as soon as she could stand and get to him.

 

The lights went dark as the clip ended, his smiling face the only illumination on the stage.  For a moment, the auditorium was silent, save for the sobs and sniffles a few couldn’t hold back.  The next thing mother and daughter knew was the thunderous applause coming from behind them. Imelda rose shakily to her feet to see the entire audience on their feet cheering.  To say she was stunned would not do her feelings justice. There wasn’t much she could say so she simply lifted Coco into her arms and the two waved to the crowd before them, Imelda mouthing the words  _ ‘thank you’  _ a few times before exiting the stage.

 

Héctor was gone, and a part of her knew she would never completely get over that-- like his song said, she would never love again.  But his legacy would live on through her, through their daughter, and of course, through his beautiful songs.

 

_ FIN _

**Author's Note:**

> A link to the film version of the song  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqdiBN9Ob10


End file.
